


The Moment of Truth

by honooko



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-07
Updated: 2012-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 02:50:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honooko/pseuds/honooko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode 1x10 coda: what could have happened, but never did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Moment of Truth

Merlin had always thought that when the moment came, he would be afraid. He’d thought his hands would shake and that he would drop to his knees before Arthur and beg (whether it was for understanding, his life, or forgiveness, he couldn’t say.) Somehow, in his mind, the moment always seemed like it would be wrought with unsurety and chaos.

Instead, for the first time in years, he felt like himself.

~

Will had been saying it, and for all that Merlin protested and listed off the reasons why it wasn’t that easy, it wasn’t that _simple_ , it didn’t take much for Merlin to acknowledge that he was right. With his village, his friends, his home in such grave danger, he would sacrifice everything to protect that. Ealdor had sent him away without so much as a wave, and yet, it was still the place that rose to his mind’s eye when he heard the word “home.” He pictured his mother’s soft hands, callused from the years of country living and Will’s smile that always seemed to be half exasperation, half fond. Will was one of those people Merlin could never quite fool; while everyone else was happy to embrace the idea of Merlin The Happy Idiot, Will always expected more of him, expected _better_ of him.

It was frustrating to spend so much time trying to be “ordinary” and find himself disappointing the one person he actually wanted to impress.

“He doesn’t know the real you,” Will insisted, and Merlin winced. Partly because Will was wrong; Arthur knew him as fully as anyone could barring that single unspoken truth. Better than Gaius, anyway, who most certainly knew of Merlin’s power and perhaps more than Merlin himself did. And yet, Will spoke from the position of someone who _did_ know everything about Merlin.

Or everything that Merlin had been when he left the village, anyway.

The unavoidable fact of the matter was that Merlin had, in a very real sense, changed. He was not the clumsy country boy with a stunning inability to keep himself out of trouble anymore. He had an identity beyond that, a _destiny_ , and for all the times he spent cursing the Dragon and his imposed sense of responsibility, there was something powerful in hearing the words “you are meant for greatness” being spoken by someone else. Merlin found that Arthur knowing him was a far less important thing to gain than the overarching fate he was working towards.

Will didn’t know this.

There were a lot of things Merlin hadn’t tried to bring Will up to speed on; he couldn’t tell the stories of Lady Helen, Knight Valiant, Nimueh, Edwin, Sophia, Tristan, or any other of the countless dangers he’d faced since arriving at Camelot. He’d willingly thrown his life away for the sake of Arthur, and what Arthur was meant to become. Merlin couldn’t seem to find the words to explain that it wasn't just _Arthur_ , it was something a thousand times greater. Ealdor was his birthplace, but it was not the place that defined him; he wasn’t sure it ever had.

Arthur was the golden prince who would become the greatest king Albion had ever known. In the grand scheme of things, Ealdor was not worth sacrificing that.

Later that night, he sat by Hunith’s side and fought with the conflicting desires of who he once was, and who he had become. Ealdor’s Merlin wanted to protect this place where he had grown up, and this woman who had raised him with endless patience and endless love. Hunith had never feared him; feared _for_ him, perhaps, but never the boy himself. Not when Merlin had a nightmare and accidentally summoned the wolf of his dreams into their home; not when he’d lit a barn on fire during the winter when he was only trying to warm his hands; not even when in a fit of childish rage, he’d nearly killed her when his anger caused a burst of violent wind to knock her clean off a ladder.

She wrapped his hand in hers; he was struck by how small and fragile they seemed now that he was grown.

 _She has given her life for me,_ Merlin thought. _I cannot sacrifice that gift._

He assured his mother that if it came down to it, he would do what he had to do to save Ealdor, even though he knew it wasn’t Ealdor he wanted to save.

~

Merlin tried to tell Arthur.

“Whatever happens out there today,” he said low, “please don’t think any differently of me.”

“I won’t,” Arthur assured him. He thought Merlin was scared; he thought the fear of battle and the uncertainty of fighting for his life was something new and terrifying for Merlin. Merlin was almost offended until he remembered Arthur had no idea exactly how many times Merlin had almost died for him, fighting for Arthur’s life as well as his own.

His gaze burning as though the golden fire was about to spring into them, Merlin felt the words collecting on his tongue: _I am a sorcerer. I fight for you, and I fight for Ealdor._

But Morgana stepped in, and the words died before ever leaving his lips. The weight of the chance he had just missed pressed down on Merlin’s shoulders and he tried hard not to feel as thought the battle had already been lost.

~

“There’s too many of them,” Will said, and Merlin felt something slide into place in his mind and in his heart. This was it; this was the moment where he stepped up to who and what he was, and made a choice.

He chose the truth.

The magic coursed through him, ice-cold power singing down his nerves as he lifted his hand and summoned a wind. The cyclone grew where he directed and attacked whom he commanded; Ealdor’s citizens were flung to the side, landing roughly in piles of hay. The wind curled around him like a hissing embrace and nothing had ever felt so _right._

Beside him, Will looked proud. The wind fell away and their enemies were vanquished. Merlin had done it.

“Who did that?!” Arthur snarled, and Merlin’s blood ran cold. He and Will turned to face Arthur’s anger, _fury_ , and Merlin could feel Will shifting next to him, ready to speak.

“Arthur,” Merlin said in the same low voice he attempted his confession in.

“Watch out!” Will barked out suddenly, shoving Arthur aside. The wet thud of the crossbow bolt sinking into his chest was one of the loudest, most horrifying sounds Merlin had ever heard in his life.

~

Will attempted to take the blame as he died. He insisted, repeatedly and firmly, that he was the one who had conjured up the windstorm. But after every word, Arthur glanced up at Merlin, and Merlin knew that Will’s lies were not believed.

“Will,” Merlin said quietly, firmly. “That’s enough.”

“But I—“

“Enough, Will,” Merlin said softly, his hand warm on Will’s cheek. “Thank you, but you’ve done enough.”

Merlin would not let Will die with a lie on his lips.

~

Arthur pulled him from Will’s funeral as soon as the pyre began to burn itself out, his hand an iron vice around Merlin’s elbow. He looked dark and murderous and Merlin knew he should be afraid, but for some reason, he couldn’t shake the feeling of peace and ease that had washed over him since his magic passed in front of Arthur’s eyes. There was nothing left to hide.

“Merlin,” Arthur said once he had pulled Merlin into the closest empty location; a barn.

“Arthur,” Merlin replied easily. Arthur snarled, reaching out to shove Merlin violently in the chest.

“Do not address me so casually,” he hissed.

Merlin bit back a retort, well aware that diffusing the situation at this point was going to be next to impossible. He wanted to give excuses, to take that look of darkness ( _betrayal_ ) from Arthur’s eyes, but there was nothing he could say. He would not ask forgiveness for who he was.

“You are a sorcerer,” Arthur said after a pause. “You practice magic.”

“Yes,” Merlin said without a hint of hesitation or shame. “Although I don’t get too much practice in, considering the penalty should I be caught.”

“You’re a liar,” Arthur said. “This entire time, you’ve been a liar.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Merlin said reasonably, watching the taut fury in Arthur’s shoulders. “It’s not exactly lying to omit strategic truths, is it?”

“Silence!” Arthur snarled, turning in a split second and slamming him against a wall. His arm was pressed to Merlin’s throat, rage and violence in every inch of his body.

“No,” Merlin managed. The pressure on his throat lightened just enough for him to pull in a gasp of air as Arthur stared at him, incredulous. Merlin remembered his face the second day they fought, and how Arthur had been both shocked, and quietly impressed, that Merlin would disregard protocol.

“What?”

“No,” Merlin repeated. “If you want to question me, then it’s only polite you let me answer.”

“Question?” Arthur said, laughing, his tone hollow. “What is there to question? I saw you. You committed a capital crime mere strides from the prince. There is nothing to confirm or deny.”

“You haven’t asked me why,” Merlin pointed out.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, and for a heartbeat, it was exactly like every other time Merlin had said something to surprise Arthur; for a moment, the utter seriousness of the situation was forgotten. Merlin almost imagined he saw the usual quirk of Arthur’s lips as he caught on to the game.

“...Why?” Arthur asked, and the question was edged with such sorrow, Merlin almost couldn’t answer.

“I have committed the crime of sorcery against the crown, for the crown,” Merlin said, smiling as a small and bitter laugh climbed out his throat. “I’m guilty of irony, apparently.”

“For the crown?” Arthur asked, his anger back in full force. “I’d like to hear how you could justify that.”

“It’s pretty easy,” Merlin said. “It’s really hard to protect someone from magic without magic, you know. Actually pretty impossible in most cases.”

“You expect me to believe that you performed magic to save the King?” Arthur asked. “You are mad.”

“Not the King,” Merlin corrected. “You.”

There was a long moment when Merlin was sure Arthur was going to strike him across the face. It passed.

“Me,” Arthur said.

“Right,” Merlin confirmed.

Arthur pulled back, releasing his hold on Merlin completely. He looked conflicted; Merlin could guess why. Arthur _knew_ him, and he would struggle with trying to match up Merlin’s actions with the allegedly evil ones of all magic practitioners. He wouldn’t be able to. Further, every attempt to force a match would only draw more attention to all the times Merlin had sacrificed himself for Arthur.

“I suppose that poison you drank wasn’t actually a damn thing to worry about,” Arthur snapped, but he sounded a touch unsure.

“It would have killed me,” Merlin said quietly. “Gaius said it almost did; a moment later and I would have stayed dead, unfortunately.”

Arthur shifted, not meeting Merlin’s eyes.

“I saved you,” he said as though he was suddenly reconsidering his actions.

“Thank you,” Merlin said sincerely. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“No,” Arthur agreed darkly. “I didn’t. Perhaps I shouldn't have.”

There was a long stretch of silence after that; Merlin shifted, wishing he could see Arthur’s face. It probably wouldn’t tell him much, but it might settle the painful rolling of his stomach as he waited for the proverbial (and eventually, literal) ax to fall. Arthur was a man of both justice and mercy, but no amount of mercy would allow him to ignore his father’s law simply because he himself questioned it. Maybe someday Arthur would be willing to step beyond the path laid down for him, but Merlin wasn’t foolish enough to believe it would be now. He’d entertained triumphant fantasies that he would be the catalyst, but it was too soon. Arthur was not ready to make that choice, and Merlin was forcing him to.

They were alone in the room, with nothing but a vast, terrifying secret stretched between them. Even if Arthur chose to let Merlin live, it would only place a heavier burden on his own shoulders: he would be as guilty as Merlin for keeping the secret.

Merlin braced himself, ready for his sentencing. But.

“There has been enough death today,” Arthur said quietly, turning his back to Merlin and leaving the barn.

Merlin stood alone for a few moments, savoring the wonder and relief, before he realized what a sacrifice Arthur had just made for his sake. Everything was at risk, now. Everything was known, now.

All the more reason to stay close, always within reach, at Arthur's side.


End file.
